A Study in Blue
by Hemlock
Summary: When you've been misunderstood everytime, doing good gets rather tiresome. How does one convince a certain mutant to do good?


A Study in Blue  
  
  
  
I stare at the white pages. Why do my thoughts matter? Why the need to put everything I kept inside for so long into words? Would it help at all?  
  
Dr Trebeck here thinks so. "Tell me, doc," I say as I let down the pen he handed me earlier, "does this help?"  
  
"Which are you referring to?" he asks.  
  
"This, the writing... _thing_." I shake my head. "What's the point?"  
  
"Is there any point at all in writing?" Trebeck sends back another question. I shrug helplessly. Answering questions with questions. Perfect. "Is it the main reason why you are here?"  
  
I try to return his own medicine. "What, you mean me sitting here with you?"  
  
"The main reason why you are _here_ at this moment, the reason you are _alive_." Not a question, but a cleverly disguised one. "The reason why you are still alive after all the things you went through."  
  
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "You know what?" I ask. "I have not the damnedest idea." I smile, but from the way Dr Trebeck narrows his eyes, my smile must have been an ugly one. "I can't answer that question, doc."  
  
"There's no one else for you to pass the buck to," he silently reminds me. "You have to answer that, sooner or later."  
  
I shift restlessly on the cozy seat. "I have no idea, doc. What do you want me to do, make it up?" My voice suddenly booms in the minimalist-decorated room. "I can cook up something for you."  
  
"Sometimes the best answer comes from making them up," Dr Trebeck says almost absently, staring at the Newton balls after he sets them to a series of pendulum acts. Their _tic tac _echo amazingly loud in the silent room. "You know, most theories are made up because the scientists don't really know what's really going on. They only know bits and pieces of things and in the process of putting them together, sometimes a small fabrication is necessary."  
  
"I'm no scientist, doc," I say weakly, but what he has just said made a brief flash in my head. I'm absolutely clueless as to what has been, and is, happening around me. Always. Somehow my mind managed to push my better half toward a positive lane: Professor Xavier's dream.   
  
I always wonder what would it be for me if Eric Lensherr found me first. Or even Apocalypse. Would I still be alive? Would I be here? Would I be bad?  
  
"Am I bad, doc?" I ask suddenly. Dr Trebeck smiles as if expecting the question.  
  
"Who am I to judge you?" he asks back. The question game again. "Have you tried to ask that to those who are close to you? Or are you too concerned that they will give you the wrong answer?"  
  
"I am none of that," I answer.   
  
"None of which?"  
  
"Concerned or tried. I never try, doc. I _do_ things. They never fail." After a moment I add, "Sometimes."  
  
"So you are not concerned? Of what... or should I rephrase that. Of whom?"  
  
The pen is back in my fingers and I skillfully twirl it back and forth. Should I answer that? If I do, what will he think? "No names, doc," I finally reply. "There are some, yes. I'm concerned of some people."  
  
"Has it ever crossed you mind that you should tell them what you feel?" Before I can even reply he added, "And please don't give me that 'action speaks louder that words' sort of crap. Let me tell you a little secret; that rarely works anymore."  
  
He traps me there. Like a careful chess player he anticipates my words and thoughts. I am at loss of words. Leaning back on the seat I turn my stare to the open window. The sun is shining and a perfect spring day is unfolding. What the hell am I doing here?  
  
"Are we all here?" he asks, trying to gain my attention.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. We're all here," I humor him. After a few seconds - because he's seemingly waiting for my reply - I nod vigorously. "Yeah, OK? All the time." Noticing a strange grin about to break out on his face I immediately add, "And I have, at several occasions, told a few deserving people I was concerned of them."  
  
Here his left eyebrow is lifted. "_Was_?"  
  
Well, what do you know. I'm trapped again. Dammit. "Several... well, some of them already died," I silently reply. My eyes are downcast.  
  
I can feel his eyes are on me. The weight of his stare actually pull my neck even closer to the floor that I find myself counting the chaotic swirls of the marble floor as a diversion. I know now he is expecting some sort of answer from me. I refuse to give in.  
  
Quietly he inquired. "Was it too late when you tell them that you cared?"  
  
I falter. The pen falls - no, flies - away from my finger and hits the marble floor. I forgot that it is a fountain pen and didn't expect the force I use to twirl it was very strong that it shatters when it touches the floor. I stare as the blue ink bleeds out of the pen, making the floor a sort of those strange symmetrical pictures shrinks used for tests.  
  
Dr Trebeck neither commented nor called for a cleaner. Probably he is thinking it is fortunate he never fixed a rug in his office. He just watches the ink bleeds onto the marble floor.  
  
I look up to him and down again. "I'm... I'm sorry," I apologize, stuttering.  
  
He gave me a small nod and focuses to me. "I guess I should make a certain retraction in my words. The one being 'action speaks louder that words'."  
  
I smile to my knitted fingers. "I guess so."  
  
He sighs. "There is very little I can say to you. I'm not certain whether you want to think of your past, but you still have the desire to go there."  
  
Nodding, I lift up my head to face him. He is staring at the open window. "You care about people. That's a good frame of mind. Still, concern without care is not concern at all. You can plant a seed and leave it there, but the result differs greatly if you nurture and look after it properly."  
  
"How would you feel when you do that and the whole world laughs at your face?" I ask.  
  
He smiles briefly and faces me. "How would you feel when you do that as that person dies?"  
  
Another mental stinging slap whacks me flat on the face. I take a deep breath that makes a hissing sound and rub my nose. My mouth starts to open but no words come out.  
  
A triumphant smile is evident of Dr Trebeck's face. He stops my goldfish imitation. "Think of that everyday," he says as he gestures towards the door. "She's waiting for you outside."  
  
My eyebrows shoots upwards. "_She_?"  
  
"My secretary informs me just now through an SMS on my mobile phone," Dr Trebeck says, lifting his palm-sized mobile. "And your session's almost over, anyway. I believe we've made quite a jump today."  
  
Hesitatingly I agree with him. "Hey, sorry about the floor."  
  
Dr Trebeck shakes his head. "No harm done. Next time remind me to give you rollerball pens only."  
  
I laugh, a loud, hearty one. It feels good, and the bonus is the look on Dr Trebeck's face. It is a cross between astonishment and someone who has just seen a miracle.  
  
"Don't worry, doc. I'm not dying," I say as I grab the doorknob and wink at him. "I'm perfectly fine. I'll remember whatever you told me."  
  
He shakes his head. "I'll leave the file open, anyway. Just in case."  
  
"Don't have to," I reply as I exit. Outside I see the secretary talking to her. When she hears me calling her name she runs to me and wrap her arms around me. I return the hug and give a peck on the forehead.  
  
Her eyes goes up to mine, suddenly troubled and worried. "What did they do to you? Are you sick?" she asks endlessly.  
  
I wave aside her questions with another quick kiss on the cheek. "The doctor ordered a kiss a day. But for you I'll make it double."  
  
She is in disbelief. "You are not being yourself. Don't make me run away screaming!" she says nervously.  
  
I laugh again. "Darlin', I'm OK. Listen to what we'll do today," I plan as I pull her into my arms - easy to do because she is almost my height - "we'll go down the street where they sell the best hotdogs with the best mustard around, then we'll go to that movie you want to see so much. Then - "  
  
"You're scaring me, Logan!!" Jubilee screams to me.   
  
  



End file.
